Hide Your Love Away
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Sherlock hides Molly at his parents country home while she recovers from Moriarty's attempt on her life. She and Sherlock finally have an important conversation. Tiny bits of fluff sprinkled amongst the angst. **One shot.


**A/N: Couldn't help myself with the title... my husband played this song for me at our wedding, so it's special to me. Self indulgent I know, awe well. **

**I own nothing of course other than the mistakes, those are all mine and I hold on tight to them like a warm blanket on a cold winters night. Didn't mean to get poetic... I'm just very cold right now. Enjoy.**

Sherlock stood at the backdoor of his parents home simultaneously dreading and looking forward to the conversation he was about to have. At least it was a pleasant setting, it was spring and his mother's garden was in full bloom. He couldn't quite see his target yet, she was laying in a lounge chair, but he knew she was there. He took a deep breath and started his short walk, before he got three-forth's of the way to her she spoke.

"Didn't you mother ever tell you it's not nice to sneak up on a lady, Sherlock Holmes?"

"How'd you know it was me?" He asked.

"You've been wearing the same aftershave since the day I met you, when the breeze changed I could smell you coming. Also you have a very distinctive gate."

By this time he had reached her and he was towering over the reclining woman.

"How are you feeling Molly?" He asked as he sat down on the other lounger facing her.

"You're parents have treated me like a princess, they are attending to my every need. I've never met nicer people in my life. If your mother didn't have photographic prof I'd swear you and Mycroft were adopted."

Sherlock chuckled, "That's not what I asked."

"Why am I here Sherlock?"

"You are convalescing."

Molly nodded her head, "Right... why am I doing that _here_?"

"Because other than the Royal Residences this is the safest place in England."

"I haven't seen an agent or a member of the Met since I arrived."

"Ah yes, that's part of the deal. Mummy agreed to protection as long as she'd never see or hear them. Don't ask me why. Mycroft likes to keep Mummy happy. Once again, how are you feeling?"

Molly paused looking out over the picturesque landscape, she didn't want to answer his blasted question... she just wanted to go home.

"Where are John and Mary? Don't they need to be _safe _too?"

Sherlock took a deep breath..._ not making this easy are we_ _Molly_, he thought. "John is a former solder and Mary... well Mary can take..."

"I know all about Mary." She interrupted. "She came by my flat for a little _girl talk_ the nigh before you left for your _death mission_. Told me everything. For the life of me I can't figure out why, she was under the impression that her situation had somehow robbed you and I of... something." Molly shuttered visibly when she said that. "I told her she was being ridiculous. She might be a former bond girl but I think she is also a bit delusional, keep an eye on her would you?" She said never making eye contact with Sherlock.

Sherlock for his part barely took a breath during her explanation, he just stared at her.

Molly turned to look at Sherlock, "So they are safe, that's good. How long am I staying?"

Sherlock was reeling from Mary's little _confession, _especially the part about him and Molly (Mrs. Watson would be receiving a visit from him in the very near future) but quickly gathered himself. "Molly, you are in no shape to care for yourself and there is still a psychopath hell bent on killing you on the loose. So I can't give you a time table, sorry."

"I don't mean to be impatient Sherlock, I would just like to get back to my life. Back to my autopsies, back to my flat, back to you ignoring me. All this attention is making me... nervous."

"This is the first time I've seen you since..." He stopped himself, he wasn't sure if it was okay to say out loud that he'd found her bound and gagged half dead covered in cuts and bruises both ankles broken, it made his stomach turn to think about it, he couldn't imagine what it was doing to her.

"Right, I hadn't noticed that." She said oozing with sarcasm. "I was talking about the indirect attention Sherlock. Making sure I'm taken care of, protected. I don't need all this. I'm not your responsibility."

Molly was once again not looking at him so he got up and walked into her view. "How the hell do you suppose that you're not my responsibility Molly Hooper? Hmmm? This..." He gestured to her broken body, "this is all my fault, and I'll be damned if anymore harm comes to you."

"It's your fault that James Moriarty is a lunatic? It's your fault that the security at Barts let his henchmen drug me? It's your fault they beat me and cut me and snapped my legs like twigs? Are you insane?"

Sherlock paced around wishing he had cigarette (or something stronger.) "Molly it's my fault that you were even on his radar, he did this because you helped me, because of what you mean to me..." His statement started off strong but ended in something akin to a whisper.

Molly shook her head. "Not your fault Sherlock... Not. Your. Fault. Stop blaming yourself, you have a job to do and you can't do it while carrying around some kind of misplaced guilt. I don't blame you, so stop!"

This is why he hadn't been by to see her, well that and he'd been like a man on fire chasing every lead he came across to find that little Irish bastard. He had no idea how to talk to... well... people. Especially someone who had been through such a traumatic event (and one he had caused no less.) Would they ever be the same, would she be the same? Of course not, hunting down the network had changed him, as did killing Magnussen. She would need a support system and counselors and friends. Better people than him frankly, but he couldn't stop himself from keeping her close. It had taken years and pain and tragedy and so many screw ups on his part but he knew somewhere deep inside that he loved this tiny, broken woman laying in his mother's garden surrounded by her beloved flowers. Now was not the time for heart spilling and making future plans (if there were any to be made,) right now she had to let herself heal and she was doing a poor job of it.

Sherlock crouched down next to her and took her hand, "Molly, please listen to me, I do feel responsible for you and your current condition. You helped me, and I care for you. That's why he took you and hurt you, that's why he used you against me. I need you to be safe so I can find him and kill him, everything I've done these last three years has been to keep the people I love safe. Please do this one thing for me and I promise I'll get him, I promise he'll never hurt you again... Okay?"

Sherlock was looking at her with _those eyes_, the same eyes he had used the night he came to her and asked Molly Hooper to kill him. Molly was completely helpless to _those eyes._ If Sherlock Holmes had a superpower if wasn't his skill of deduction, or his enormous brain, it was those damnable eyes.

"What do you need?" She said.

Sherlock smiled remembering hearing those exact words coming from his pathologist on the night brfore his supposed death. "You've lose twelve pounds since the incident, twelve pounds I might add that you didn't have to lose. Eat. Eat and get your strength back. Also work on your physio therapy, I know you've not been doing it. Just get healthy again. When this is over I'll need my pathologist back." He said trying to put more meaning in his words but he was afraid he was failing to do so.

"Mummy's a bit of a tattle tail isn't she?" Molly smirked.

"Yes, she is. But think of it as a kindness that she called me, you haven't seen her bad side yet, just hope you never have to. She makes Mycroft look like the Easter Bunny." He said and they both laughed, really laughed for the first time.

"Okay, fine. But don't think I've forgiven you for stealing me away like some damsel in distress. I feel ridiculous being taken care of like this."

"Fair enough. You don't like being taken care of and I don't like that Mummy showed you the picture of me with my head shaved, awful phase just awful." He said pulling a face.

"What happened to the body being _just a transport_?" She laughed.

"I didn't know my _transport_ had such an ill shaped cranium."

"Yes, you're better with hair, much better." She said looking up at him through her eyelashes and giggling.

Suddenly Sherlock felt like maybe, just maybe things were going to be okay. Finish the mission, find and destroy James Moriarty and get back to life... and maybe just a little bit more of a life than he had before.

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
